


Inside Out, Upside Down, Backward

by jackycomelately



Series: Demons Don't [1]
Category: American Idol RPF Season 7, American Idol RPF Season 8, Brad Belldom, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe Big Bang Challenge, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-21
Updated: 2010-05-21
Packaged: 2017-10-09 15:30:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackycomelately/pseuds/jackycomelately
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Three years before the pilot of Supernatural, it's a very different world. The Winchesters have been fighting demons for a long time, causing Dean in particular, to grow up faster. Things got harder much much earlier. Supernatural collides with American Idol where Archie has a history with demon possession, and Dean fumbles the save. Cook is trapped with a demon; the bitch of it is it's Archie. Dean has disappeared, so John Winchester is here to save the day with…Brad Bell? First times all around.</p><p>Warnings: non-explicit rape (possession-related) and general violence. Potential spoilers of Supernatural up to season four and the first six episodes of season five (I'm way behind on my watching). Spoilers for season seven of American Idol. NOT REAL. None of the fictional characters belong to me. I don't know David Cook, David Archuleta or Brad Bell.  I'm fairly confident that they have not come into contact with demons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inside Out, Upside Down, Backward

**Author's Note:**

> Sincere thanks to rusty_armour who is fabulous and who betaed this beast.
> 
> Links to the wonderful fanart created by mariemisu for this story:
> 
> http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v257/mariemisu/demoneyes.jpg  
> http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v257/mariemisu/lap1.jpg  
> http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v257/mariemisu/hospitalbed.jpg
> 
> NOTE ON AGES  
> In this universe, John is 39, Dean is 21, Sammy is 17. Archie is 19, Cook and Brad are 25. Yes, Brad is still closer to Dean's age than John's.

The kid was pretty much catatonic at this point. Not that Dean blamed him. He gave him a quick once over. No obvious holes. _I.D., I.D., I.D._He searched the kid's pockets. He found a battered-looking wallet. David Archuleta. Thank Christ, he lived in L.A. He checked the rest of his pockets. _Score! Cell phone._ Man, the kid had a shitload of numbers. He shrugged and hit the topmost one. Hopefully, it was a parent and not a school friend.

"Jesus Christ, Archie! Where the fuck are you?"

Bingo. A concerned adult anyway.

"Yeah, Archie's not exactly in any shape to come to the phone right now, but I took a shot with his cell." Implying the kid was dead drunk would probably be the best immediate cover; not exactly unknown for a teenager. God only knew what kind of therapy the kid was going to need, but there was only so much Dean could do.

"Is he hurt? Who is this? Where is he?"

"Ah." Dean looked around at the empty alley, then decided he was being stupid. "We're in Burbank; he's not tracking any too good. Is there someone who can come and get him?"

"Jesus Christ. Yes, stay with him, okay? Can I trust you to do that? It's going to take me a while to get there." Dean could hear other voices in the background, but the voice on the phone was obviously ignoring them. "Does he need a hospital? Let me talk to him."

Dean shrugged. Hell, worth a shot. He said, "hold on" and held the phone to the kid's ear. "Someone wants to talk to you."

"Archie! Hey, kid! You okay?"

The kid flinched, blinked and stuttered. His hand came up to hold the phone. "Cccook?"

Awesome, Dean thought. Signs of life.

"Yeah, Archie. What's going on? I'm coming to get you as soon as I can. Are you hurt?"

Dean smirked when the kid patted himself hilariously as if to check. "Ummm…no, I don't think so…Cook, I didn't mean to…I think, I think, I hurt someone…Oh, no…Cook, I think I hurt someone…" His knees went out on him, and Dean hoisted him up by the back of his arms, just in time to stop him from hitting the very nasty ground.

"Archie…Archie…it's going to be okay. Just hold on until I get there, and we'll fix it. I promise I'll help you fix whatever it is. Can you hold on until I get there?"

"Okay…"

After getting directions from someone who identified himself as Winchester, Cook reluctantly hung up, leaned his forehead against the grimy wall, and tried to regain his composure. Archie had been missing for almost forty-eight hours. For someone as scheduled and reliable as Archie that was a lifetime. He breathed deep and began the first of many many phone calls.

"Okay, kid. Let's get a hotel room," Dean said.

The kid nodded shakily. The call had clearly helped. Dean figured some food, some rest, and a familiar face in the morning would do the kid a world of good. Nice to see someone survive a demon possession. Too often, Dean was left with nothing but a corpse. Damn depressing way to end a job. He steered the kid towards his shitty rental.

 

_Earlier that Week_

 

"Who is that? Baby, come to daddy."

"Yup, pretty as fuck. Seems straight, though, going by the flirting he was doing with JennJenn earlier. He's the new P.A."

"Such a waste," Brad mourned. "Well, where's Adam at? I didn't haul half the contents of his closet here just for fun."

Bob, the assistant, to the assistant, to the assistant director, gave him a look.

"Okay, so it was totally fun. I'm still sick of carrying it all."

"He's in rehearsal right now, but you can leave it in his room. Just a second. Hey, Smithy! Come here a minute."

Brad was delighted when it was the very pretty man who came over.

"Let Brad into Adam's room, would you?"

"No problem." His voice was deep and warm and made Brad's favourite parts vibrate.

He nodded politely, but Brad was disappointed to read a total lack of sexual interest on his face.

"So, you're new?" Brad asked. Hell, being friendly never cost anything. Maybe he had an equally gorgeous gay brother.

"Yup, just started a few days ago. It's been interesting."

"I bet. Are you an actor?" He was certainly attractive enough.

"God, no. I'm just trying to learn the business."

Smithy unlocked the massive front door to the Mansion. He looked around with interest.

"First time inside?" Brad asked.

"Yup. I hope you know where we're going. This place is huge. We could spend days lost."

"Oh, I've been here before. Just down this way." Brad led the way down the hall to the room that Adam was sharing with Kris. He deposited the clothes and toiletries on the bed with a sigh of relief.

"If you have a few minutes, how 'bout a tour? At this point, I'm living in fear that I'm going to be sent here alone and, seriously, will never be seen again," Smithy said.

"Hee. You'll just be a ghost wondering the halls, lost forever," Brad said.

"Why? Are there stories about the Mansion being haunted?"

"Well, apparently Allison Iraheta told one of the reporters from _People_ that her bedroom was haunted. She heard 'banging noise and growling' in her bedroom. She named the ghost Phyllis. Personally, I think it sounds like some kind of bad joke. Growling? Seriously?"

"Huh. So which room is the haunted one?"

Brad shrugged. "I think she's across from Adam and Kris. Sorry, but I draw the line at lurking around a seventeen-year-old girl's room. You'll have to ask her or her mother if you want a tour."

Smithy laughed. "No, that's okay. Just curious. Kinda freaky, though. Have you ever seen a ghost?"

"My grandmother's house was haunted."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. No growling, though. You could feel it. There's this wicked cold spot on the stairs. You know how when you're a kid, and you go back, and things are different than you remember?"

"Sure."

"That spot is exactly the same. It still makes the hair on the back of my neck go right up." Brad shuddered. He always had the sense of something watching him. His grandmother had never felt it.

Three days later, grumbling, Brad headed back to the Mansion. "I swear, boy has a mind like a steel trap, except when it comes to his damned belts."

Considerably closer to the air date, he was hard-pressed to find anyone to let him in the Mansion this time.

"It doesn't help that Smithy never showed up for work today," Bob muttered.

"Really? He seemed like the reliable type, too." As well as the pretty type.

"Nah, he was never around when you needed him."

"Hey, Judy! Let Brad in the Mansion, will you?"

This time Judy just let him in and apologetically hurried back, explaining, once again, that they were understaffed today.

Brad headed briskly for Adam's room. The Mansion was a little creepy to navigate in its emptiness when he was alone.

He was not happy to hear noises coming from the room across the hall. It might not even be Allison's room, he told himself firmly. Even if it was, she probably just came back for something.

He opened his mouth to call out and then closed it abruptly. He approached the door silently instead and listened carefully. He could hear rustling as someone moved about. He sighed. Not a ghost. He'd just drop the belt off and his good deed would be done for the day.

Brad never made it out of the Mansion. As he passed what was actually Allison's door (and, no, it wasn't the room across the hall from Kris and Adam), the door flew open and hit the wall with a bang.

He would not whimper with terror. He would not whimper with terror. A vase came flying out of the room and smashed against the wall.

"Oh Jesus Christ!" He ran for it.

Unfortunately, while in the process of intelligent, if cowardly, flight, something caught the corner of his eye. Someone was in the room across the hall from Kris and–oh, fuck trying to pretend he didn't care–Adam's room. He detoured at top speed.

"Run!" He blinked as he recognized Smithy. "Run like a mother fucker!"

"Brad?" Smithy said, surprised. "You should really get out of here. It isn't safe."

"No shit!" Brad howled. "Come on, what are you? Crazy? Let's go!"

Smithy opened his mouth and then dived for Brad. It wasn't that Brad objected to gorgeous men throwing themselves on top of him. He positively encouraged it, but now was clearly not the time. He heard the sound of something heavy hitting the wall behind them both.

"Okay, that's it. I'm out of here, and if you have an ounce of sense…" Brad was interrupted again (it was starting to make him irritable) by the slamming of both doors and the loud bolting of the windows.

"Oh God. That can't be good."

"Not so much, no." Smithy pulled Brad to his feet and over to a weird collection of things on the floor. The objects were in the center of a circle with a number of symbols, written in chalk, spaced throughout.

Brad just stared at him. "Are you causing this?" he asked incredulously.

"I didn't cause the ghost. I might have something to do with…"

Another heavy object hit the wall.

"Okay, enough talk," Smithy said. "Stay inside the circle and be quiet. Once I finish this, things will calm down."

Stunned, Brad sat where Smithy indicated.

Smithy picked up a battered-looking notebook and began to read in what sounded like Latin. The wind got stronger, the flying objects got more frequent, until, finally, Smithy hit what sounded like the climax of his chanting and everything came to a dead halt.

"Is it done?" Brad asked.

"I think so."

Brad got up and went to the door, which opened easily. "Can we get the fuck out of here?"

Oh, Christ, how was he going to keep Adam away from the Mansion? Not that he wanted the other Idols to get hurt by…whatever the fuck that was.

As soon as they exited the building, Brad swung around and said in his most assertive voice, "What the fuck was that?"

"It was a ghost."

"Okay, so there really is a ghost?"

"Yup. Or was a ghost; it's gone now."

"Do you do this often? Get rid of ghosts?"

"Ghosts and other things. Yeah. It's kinda what I do."

"Get rid of ghosts?"

"Yup." Smithy tilted his head at Brad and finally held out his hand. "Hi! Dean Winchester. Nice to meet you. And, yes, I deal with the supernatural."

Brad shook his hand. "Brad Bell," he said weakly. "I'm a media artist. Why did the ghost choose now to go nuts? I mean, it was apparently perfectly happy making banging noises and growling and…"

"Sorry, that's my fault. It was reacting to the dispersal spell."

"Okay, not that I want to tell you your business, but if it wasn't dangerous until you started mucking around, why not leave it alone?"

"It's not dangerous this time of year. It's more or less dormant. On the other hand, on the anniversary of its death? It's very very dangerous. Two hunters were killed trying to get rid of it."

"I never heard anything about anyone dying at the Mansion."

"You wouldn't. The third hunter, who survived, covered it up."

"So you came here alone to deal with it after two people _died_?"

"Like I said, the rest of the year it's fairly safe. I would have liked to have just slipped in between filming, but there was talk about shifting the season to guess when?"

"Oh, shit!"

"Yup, the anniversary fell right in the middle of filming. Can you say massacre? Sorry about lying to you."

"That's okay," Brad said. "So everyone will be safe now?"

"Well, I can't guarantee that one of the contestants won't flip out and stab someone, but ghost-wise? You bet."

"Do you want to see the show tonight? My plus one couldn't make it and you deserve something after saving all the Idols." And, hey, making Adam crazy with curiosity was always a plus. Dean agreed how it might be interesting after working behind the scenes to see the performances.

 

+++

 

_Back in the Present_

They were almost at the motel, when David began to shudder beside him. _Oh, shit! Seizure?_ Dean found a safe spot to pull over just in time to turn and see the black smoke curl into David's body.

David turned his head and looked at Dean from demon black possessed eyes. The demon smiled at Dean. "We're backkkkkk."

 

+++

 

The demon fiddled with Dean's phone, pacing restlessly back and forth. "Christ, this body's hyperactive as hell." The demon punched in some numbers and Dean's messages obediently came up.

"He's also got a freaky memory. If he had a little larceny in his soul, he could clean up."

"Oh ho, who do we have here?" He hit the play button.

_"Oh, what the fuck? Where are you? Listen, buddy, whatever you want we can work it out. I can get you whatever you need. Just take care of the kid, okay?"_

"Awww…isn't that sweet? I think he really really likes me. I bet I could get him to do some really fun stuff."

"I'll just drop him a text and we'll meet up. Let's see…"

_Change of plans. Meet us at the Cardinal motel parking lot._

"There we go. Fun for the whole family."

He left without a backward glance at the empty room.

 

+++

 

Cook got to the parking lot early. The waiting was hell. He was vastly relieved to see a familiar figure arrive and climb out of a rental.

"Archie, thank Christ! Are you okay? Where's Winchester?" Cook hugged Archie hard.

"I'm not Archie." The voice in his ear was amused and old old old.

"What?" Cook met Archie's eyes and recoiled, looking into unfamiliar black, instead of warm brown. The demon brutally stopped Cook from breaking contact, studying his confused and concerned eyes.

 

Oh, I totally understand what he sees in you."

"Archie, what the…?" Cook choked hard and tried to break Archie's grip on his throat. Archie's fingers were ruthlessly strong, and Cook's vision began to haze out.

"Oh, sweetheart, we are going to have such fun, you and I."

 

+++

 

"Good morning, sweetheart."

Cook looked up into black eyes and sincerely wished for unconsciousness again. He was tied to a bed in a glaringly cheap hotel room.

"Okay, one of us is either having a psychotic break or…" And it was bad Cook couldn't think of an "or".

"What? You don't believe in demons? Archie does…Interesting. Huh. There are all sorts of fascinating things in here."

"Okay, clearly _you_ are the one having the psychotic break. Damn, I was really hoping it was me."

That was when someone broke the door down. It seemed like a positive step forward at first. Hopefully, it would be the police, who could be talked into quietly getting Archie help. Or his security. Or, even better, Archie's security. Where the fuck was their security anyway? Hell, at this point, he'd take their PR people. What he really didn't want, and got, was more black-eyed people.

"Oh, shit! Maybe we're both having a break from reality."

When whatever had stolen Archie's body broke the nose, the arm, and possibly the neck of the three people who came through the door, Cook knew, for the first time, that it really wasn't Archie.

 

+++

 

The demon (Cook was just going to go with it for now) disappeared for much too short a time with what Cook prayed wasn't three dead bodies. He came back alone.

"You know, I was going to see if I could get you to fuck me," the demon said. "I bet you I could have. You really have a thing for him. But this? This is fun too." Cook could feel his shoulders hunch as Archie – no, not Archie – got on the bed. "You know, there's a reason why I tied you face down." The demon's breath was warm in his ear. "You have a really sweet ass."

"It's been said." Cook could make his voice steady, but his usual amusement was beyond him.

"Heh, I bet. You're tense, though." The demon's hands dug firmly into the knotted muscles of Cook's shoulders. "You'll enjoy it a lot more if you relax. You know, this is the only way you're going to get this. He's a Mormon. They are not big on homosexual sodomy."

"No?" Not that Cook planned to take anything this asshole had to say as gospel, but he had wondered.

"Nope. Homosexuality's a sin. I'm sure little Archie would hie himself to his bishop at the first hint of feelings that he shouldn't have. Too bad. It's a nice enough body. Well, we'll just break it in for him.

"I picked up some necessaries while I was out. Toothbrush, some undies, lube. I would have gotten some nice scented candles, but I didn't want to be late. That's just rude. I did grab some nice massage oil at the checkout counter. That impulse aisle gets me every time." The demon swung off the bed and got the bag from the dresser. "Here we go: oil, lube, condoms. How about we start with the oil and work our way up, hmmm?"

"Fabulous," Cook said dryly.

Cook was a little shocky after. The demon made some instant coffee and forced him to drink it, heavily sweetened.

"Can he hear me?" Cook asked.

"Archie? I don't know, exactly. I've never not been in the driver's seat, so to speak. Of course, I can hear him. He really really didn't want me to hurt you, but I'm used to having someone yelling in my ear. You know, once you've been possessed, you become more open to trespass. Your barriers become weaker. Not to mention the lingering distress makes you vulnerable. Archie's been possessed before."

Cook jerked. "What?"

"Oh, yes, by a demon much nastier than me. I quite like the company, but some squash their hosts into jelly and, believe me, raping the crush of their host is really the least of what they get into."

"So, you're saying I should be nice to you because it could be much worse?"

"What would be the fun in that? It could always be worse. You have shitty barriers by the way. Much too open to the universe. If I wanted to be really nasty, I'd switch back and forth. The hosts don't survive that for long. I could make you chose between hurting him all the time or killing him by flipping."

Cook flinched wearily.

"If I wanted you to be nice to me, sweetheart, you'd be nice to me. As it happens, I'd much rather fuck you than Bambi. Besides, evil Bambi is just fuckin' hilarious."

His voice became insinuating. "I also like more junk in the truck." He ran his fingers through Cook's sweat-soaked hair. "Some food, I think, first. What do you like on your pizza?"

 

+++

 

"What's your name?" Cook asked.

"Sweetheart, like you give a fuck, now, really."

"I won't call you Archie, so just give me a fucking name."

"If you want to call out something in the thrones of passion, you can call me Charlie. Now, bedtime. I have the feeling this body is the early-to-rise type."

Cook thought, with a pang, that, actually, Archie wasn't a morning person. It came with the territory—lots of late nights. Cook was relieved to be untied. Every muscle in his body was knotted and painful. He rolled to the side of bed.

"Do whatever you want, but stay away from the door and the phone," the demon said.

Cook nodded and slowly made his way to the shower. He had never been so grateful for hot water and privacy. Not for the first time, it occurred to him to wonder what had happened to Winchester.

 

_Back in L.A._

 

"What the fuck happened to your phone? Twitter is not exactly the best way to keep in touch. Particularly when I have to wait for you to get to a phone and call me back," Dean said.

"Your ghost happened, fucker. I think it destroyed my phone," Brad said.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. They do that sometimes. You can't get a new one?"

"I am in the process, but I want a particular colour and, frankly, they are being dicks about the whole thing. I really think…"

"Brad, sorry, sorry, but something has gone totally to shit. I need you to do something for me."

"Okay, got my listening ears on. Spit it out."

"There's something at the Mansion I need."

"Okay, well, that shouldn't be too hard to get to. What is it?"

"I don't know."

"Okay, that makes it a little harder. What the fuck do you mean, you don't know?"

"Do you know who David Archuleta is?"

"Sure, he was the runner up on last year's _American Idol_. Just a baby and from one of those weird religions. We don't exactly run in the same circles, so I don't know him personally or anything."

"Well, he's been possessed."

Dead silence. "That really happens?"

"Yeah."

"Poor kid! Okay, and you need this something to de-possess him? Like a holy bible? Although I guess, really, all bibles are holy. I mean, if you believe in that sort of…"

"Brad."

"Right, listening. So, you need this object to de-possess him?"

"I need the object to get the demon to come to me, so I can trap it."

"Ummm…are you sure he's been possessed? I mean, he's pretty religious from what I've heard. How can you tell? I mean, he might speak in tongues just as a normal…"

"He's been possessed. I got it out of him once, but it came back. I have to set things up so it can't do it again. I saw him at the set, but I didn't have any idea who he was. I just recognized that he'd been possessed. I figured I'd backtrack and try to pick up his trail again, but I started to wonder why the demon was on the set in the first place. I mean, he must want something. It doesn't make sense for the demon to return to a place where so many people know him otherwise. If I hadn't been worried about losing him the first time, I could have I.D.'d him there. It was just bad luck that he was on his way out when I spotted him."

"Right, okay, but how…"

"I just need you to get me in. I don't think they're going to let me just walk around the set. The whole ghost thing didn't exactly fly with the powers that be."

"Right, okay. We can't just let demons go around possessing people from _American Idol_. I have friends in _American Idol_! When and where?"

 

+++

 

Getting back into the Mansion wasn't much of a challenge anymore. Brad showed up with an article of clothing, and they waved him in. Some day, he was going to try it with a pair of granny panties and just watch their faces. Luckily, the new person escorting them didn't know Dean from last time. She took his name, checked his false I.D. and nodded them on when Brad vouched for him.

"So, you think this is what the demon was after?" Brad asked after they spent way too long searching inside. When they finally left, he was pretty sure that the guard thought they'd been having sex on Adam's bed or something. Brad smirked to himself. He wondered if the guard would mention it to Adam.

"Well, it lit up the EMF like Christmas tree lights, so it's something supernatural."

"Doesn't look like much."

It really didn't. It was one of the ugliest pieces of crap Dean had ever seen. Lumpy clay with a huge gapping mouth that had been made into a lamp. Dean considered himself a connoisseur of the tacky and he wouldn't have taken it for free.

"How are we going to let the demon know we have it?"

"I don't suppose you know David Cook's cell phone number?"

"No, but I know someone who can get it." Brad reached for his phone. "Adam, it's Brad. Listen, I need a favour. Call me back as soon as you can."

"So, you and Adam Lambert, huh?" Dean said.

"Shut up."

"Hey, it's not like I didn't know he was gay. I mean, the pink staircase? Not subtle."

"Shut up or I won't give you the number."

 

+++

 

Dean dialed and was directed to Cook's answering machine. He just hoped the demon was monitoring Cook's messages.

"This is Dean Winchester. I have what you want." He left his numbers and hoped that would be enough.

The phone rang almost immediately.

"Hello, Dean! Long time no see. Are you calling to set up another failed exorcism? I mean, the first one went so well."

"Yeah, swell. I guess I should just throw away this ugly ass lamp, seeing that you don't want it."

"Well, well, you've found it. Daddy would be proud. Of course, two people have been fucked-up, but, hey, what's a little collateral damage, right? I'm sure Daddy would agree."

"Yeah, about that collateral damage. I want Cook."

"He is pretty sweet. I probably should have cut his throat a long time ago, but, you know, sometimes you just have a craving for honey."

"Cook for the lamp."

"The lamp for a trap? Yeah, well, somehow you fail to inspire the right degree of terror, Dean, although I think you've hurt little Archie's feelings. Except I'm pretty sure you're trying for the whole bag of marbles. You know, Dean, how about you give me the lamp, and I promise to leave both Cook and little Archie alive at the end of this? I mean, they are pretty cute."

"Yeah, well, somehow you fail to inspire the right degree of trust, demon."

"Suit yourself. Meet me at the Rosalind Motel, Room 212. I'll look forward to seeing you again."

Cook looked at the demon. "Somehow, I don't have a good feeling about this."

"That's because you are not, appearances to the contrary, completely stupid," the demon said. "Dean undoubtedly has a dumbass plan. He's twenty-one and not known for his long-term thinking. Of course, to his credit, it is a little hard to take down someone with the strength of ten people."

"I don't understand. Archie is stronger possessed?"

"Oh, much. I have the strength of ten because my heart is evvvil. I keep you tied up just because I have a bondage fetish. Of course, Dean would rather not kill the host, whereas I can animate the dead. All in all, it sucks to be up against a demon…and what's the matter now?"

"How do I know he's not dead?"

"Do you want to say something to him? I'm not going to let him take control, but I'll convey the message if you like."

Cook looked at him bleakly. The demon held up Archie's hands, "Hey, either I'm going to lie, or I'm not. No use agonizing over it. I'm not trying to get you guys to do anything in particular. It's not like you're a Winchester or something, poor bastards. You're both strictly for amusement. You're fun as fuck, but a little bit of a princess emotionally. I don't particularly want you to curl up and die on me is all.

"What happens when I lose my amusement value? Somehow, I doubt you have a long attention span."

"I'm not known for it, particularly, no. I don't know, really. Leaving dead bodies littering the landscape is not a terrific survival strategy long-term. Of course, neither is leaving pissed off rape victims, with money, resources, and a strong itch to rescue innocent kittens. And, if Archie doesn't quit yelling in my brain, I'm going to do something you'll both regret a hell of a lot sooner. Believe me, he is alive and very unhappy."

 

+++

 

"This is a dumbass plan," Brad said.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, if you think of anything better, you let me in on it."

Brad sighed.

 

+++

 

The knock on the door seemed to catch the demon by surprise. He frowned, looked at Archie's watch (given to him by his grandfather), and frowned harder. He put his finger to his mouth and gripped Cook's shoulder. He spoke directly against Cook's ear, his voice almost soundless. "Don't make a sound or you'll be very very sorry."

"Just a second," the demon called as he tied Cook's hands and dragged him to the closet. He tied Cook's feet and gagged him for the first time. He closed the door, leaving Cook in darkness.

 

+++

 

Dean and Brad arrived at the hotel in time to see five men break down the door to the room.

"Police?" Brad asked hopefully. He had been arguing that an anonymous phone call saying that the _American Idol_ was being held hostage would be a good first step.

"Shit shit shit! They're demons! And…" Dean swallowed hard as two of them turned towards them.

"They've seen us. Brad, get help! Get my dad!"

"But I shouldn't leave you…"

"Brad, run! Take my phone. Call my dad. Tell him everything. Go go go!"

Brad stumbled out of the car as Dean gave him a good push. Dean started the engine and moved towards the demon in the lead. He was apparently going to try to run him down. Brad wasn't proud of it, but he took the phone and he ran like all the demons of hell were on his tail, instead of just five of the scariest mother fuckers he had ever seen in his short, but eventful, life.

Two hours later, after dodging through shopping malls, a massive bowling alley, and the most depressing underground club he'd ever come across (Seriously? Ball cap? Who wears a John Deere ball cap to get picked up?), he still couldn't shake the surviving demon. He fumbled the phone, swore horribly when he got an answering machine, and left a hurried, barely coherent, message.

He finally found what he was looking for an hour later. He fumbled for the sketch Dean had made him. He spun it around several times. "I hope it doesn't matter which direction it goes in."

He mourned the demise of his Mac eyeliner as he drew and sharpened, drew and sharpened, drew and sharpened. His arm ached, his back was killing him, and he could feel the demon gaining on him. He looked up at the devil's trap drawn on the muted green-blue of the ceiling with his Mac indigo eye pencil and hoped it would work. The lines blended beautifully, barely visible to his eyes. He carefully gathered up the shavings sheered off his eyeliner as he attempted to keep the line fine. He looked at the narrow hallway to the exit door. Even if the demon looked up, the different levels of the ceiling would prevent him from seeing the trap until he was in it. Perfect. He hesitated. Unless the demon decided to backtrack to the original exit. But why would he? Brad looked at Dean's phone. He swore. He placed the phone on the floor directly below the circle. He considered, picked it up, and removed the battery hatch, leaving the hatch just before the doorway to the hall, to attract the demon's attention. He returned the phone to the dirty floor. Hopefully, it would look as if he had dropped it hard and hadn't stopped to pick it up in his panic.

Praying to the God of his childhood, he ran.

 

+++

 

_"I'm looking for Dean's father. My name is Brad Bell. Dean's in trouble. You can call me on Dean's cell. Or you can direct mail me at my Twitter account: http://twitter.com/GoCheeksGo_

John often received messages from people in trouble he didn't know. His name and number quietly spread from person to person. Despite the security risk, he had several old numbers forwarded just for that reason. But this call had, indeed, been made by Dean's cell. The only response to John's return call was that terrifying buzzing sound that meant a phone had been destroyed. God damn it. Okay, something had clearly happened to Dean. Brad was legitimate, or it was a trap: either way, Brad could provide information. Odds were that Bell was dead, but … John spent twenty minutes figuring out how to sign up for a Twitter account. It was pretty straightforward. Huh. It would be a good way to keep in touch with contacts.

Brad Bell: civilian or soldier? He shrugged. He typed: _Brad, where are you? John Winchester._

The response was immediate: _Oh, thank God. I didn't even have your full name. Dean just had you listed under dad. Which is understandable, and totally adorable, but not HELPFUL. My phone got fried by a ghost. Dean gave me his and told me to call you, but one of the demons followed me. I got away, but I had to sacrifice the phone. _

_Shit, shit, what are they doing to you, Dean?_John sent Bell directions to a local coffee shop.

He arrived ninety minutes later, after confirming that no one had it under surveillance. It was packed. He identified Bell by the nervousness in his manner. Either he was waiting for him or a blind date.

"Bell?"

He was small, with a cropped t-shirt, tight jeans and bright pink shoes. He looked to be in his twenties.

"Wow." His tone was effeminate and a little brittle. "The only way you could be more perfect was if you were a marine."

John looked at him in confusion. "Well, not any more, but I used to be one."

Brad's eyes widened. "You're lying."

"No," John said slowly.

"Okay, I may have to do you right here."

John raised an eyebrow. "Why don't we take care of business first?"

"Right." Brad gave himself a visible shake. "Dean said I should find you."

"And how exactly did you meet Dean?"

"There was a ghost. At the _Idol_ Mansion?"

John shook his head. "Damned fool. I told him to wait for me to do that one."

"No kidding! Did you know that two peopled died there?"

"Yeah, I know the third one that survived. So does Dean. That's why he was being such an idiot. How did you get involved?"

"He needed something from the Mansion. And I kind of owed him for saving my life." _And basically the entire cast of American Idol, including Adam._

"Okay, what happened to Dean?"

Brad explained about going with Dean to get Cook and the other demons showing up.

"And the demons, they just let you go?" John asked with hard skepticism.

"No! They didn't just let me go! I mean, most of them went after Dean." He looked with sick apology at Dean's father. "I'm sorry. He said to get help and I don't think I could have…"

John grunted. "I don't expect you dying would have helped the situation any. They have a reason to keep Dean alive. You? Not so much. Unless it was to lead me into a trap, but you weren't followed here. I checked. So, how did you get them off your tail?"

Brad explained about the camouflaged devil's trap and using the phone to lure the demon in.

"You drew a devil's trap with an eyeliner pencil," John said, expressionlessly.

"Hey, Dean said anything that could draw a sharp line was fine!"

"No, no, that's good thinking. You have to use what's available. Actually, it wouldn't leak or leave chalk dust, comes in a variety of colours, easily available, cheap."

"Mac is not cheap!"

John ignored him. "I wonder if I should start carrying some."

"Just stay away from my Mac."

"Brad, I'm going to need your help if Dean is going to have any chance at all. Tell me everything you can."

"Of course! Whatever I can do."

"Let's get out of here. It's a little too public." They went out to the parking lot. Brad paused at John's black beauty of a car.

"Oh my God. I so want that car to fuck me." He batted his lashes at John. "But you'd do in a pinch."

John gave him an amused look. "You have good taste in cars, but I can't say the same about your taste in men."

"Married?"

"Widowed."

"I'm sorry. That must have been really hard."

John nodded acknowledgement, but said nothing more.

They sat in the car as John picked Brad's brain clean. With John's relentless probing (and not in a fun way), Brad remembered things he had no idea he had even seen. Finally, John said, "Okay, I need you to show me where Dean hid the real mystic object."

Brad nodded. Dean had said it was too dangerous to bring the real thing to the meeting. It was their only bargaining tool. They hadn't hid it far in case they needed it quickly. After retrieving it, John figured Brad was done.

"Okay, Brad, thank you. It's time for you to get the hell out of here."

"I'm not going anywhere! I left Dean to get captured! I'm not going to just go on with my life!"

"Brad, you went to get help. It was the best thing you could have done."

"Sure, absolutely, but I've never abandoned a friend before and I'm not going to start now."

John looked at Brad. He meant it. For the first time, John felt a vague stirring of sexual interest. He was suddenly aware of Brad's smooth skin, of his small thinly muscled body. He liked his sharp tongue and his loyalty, despite the fact that he was scared shitless. He liked his obvious intelligence. The intelligence and the loyalty could be assets in getting Dean back. He wondered how far Brad would be willing to go when the chips were down. So far, evidence indicated pretty far.

John nodded and simply said, "Okay, I need to make a call."

"Bobby? Yeah, I'm still alive. How you feeling? How's the leg doing? Yeah? Good. Glad to hear it. Did Dean tell you what he was doing at the Mansion? Yeah, yeah. Kid will be the death of me. He's in trouble. Yeah, demon. Listen, apparently there's at least four, maybe more. They have Dean, and another hostage, but I have something they want. Yeah, preferably without killing the hosts, but… I was thinking, a booby trap? The object has an opening. Yeah, do you think a gas would work? I mean, a stun grenade wouldn't do dick. They'd just shake it off. Oh! Yeah, that might work. Can you get it small enough? It wouldn't be much bigger than four inches. Well, hell, Bobby, I'm impressed. Yeah, well, someone has to be the first. Thanks, Bobby. Can you meet me? Yeah, that'll work. Okay, thanks. I owe you. Yeah, I know Bobby, but it was his choice. I'm just praying he lives long enough to grow actual brains."

He looked at Brad. "Okay, Bobby is sending me something by courier. It'll take until morning. We have a plan. I need to pick up a few things."

On their way back from the hardware store, they pulled into a gas station to fuel up the car and grab some food. John picked out a few things and looked over at Brad.

"You about ready?"

"Just one more minute, sugar."

The clerk gave a grimace of disgust. John stared at him until the clerk looked his way. The clerk jerked nervously and pretended to be busy behind the counter. John wouldn't have called himself a liberal, but he'd never had much patience for people who interfered with things that were none of their damn business.

They paid and headed back to the car. John drove them to a hotel. He made sure the clerk would be expecting his package. He checked them in, aware of Brad's look of amused interest when John just took one room.

They headed out to the car, where they dragged in all of John's purchases from the hardware store.

"Well, I'm going to hit the gift shop for some necessaries," Braid said. "No one told me I'd be entertaining a gentleman caller on a dirty weekend when I was so rudely hijacked. I won't be long."

John nodded. He was assembling something that looked like a giant steamer to Brad.

Brad took a while at the gift shop. He picked up some toiletries and poked through the few items of clothing they stocked that didn't actually make him want to barf. He thought about what he wanted tonight and tried not the think about what was going to happen tomorrow, and really really tried not to think about what might be happening to Dean, Archie, and Cook now. He finally headed back to the room. John was finished his DIY project. It still looked like a giant steamer to Brad.

"All done?" Brad asked.

"Yep. Find what you needed?"

Brad grimaced. "More or less."

"So, pizza?"

"Sure." Brad might die tomorrow. He was not going to worry about the fat content of his dinner tonight.

"So," Brad said as he wiped his greasy fingers after his second slice, "you want to have sex?"

John smiled at him and Brad felt his toes curl in response. "You're about the same age as my oldest, sweetheart."

"Well, I've met one of them. I wouldn't have taken him for twenty-five. I can't believe he's the youngest, unless you started at seven."

"Dean's twenty-one. Sammy's seventeen."

"You were how old when you had him?"

"Eighteen and green as grass. We lost my wife when he was four."

"God." Brad tried to imagine losing his mother at four. He tried to imagine looking after a grieving four-year-old and a baby by himself at twenty-two. He thought about what he had been doing four years ago. He took a deep breath.

"I noticed you didn't say you're not interested."

"I'm not promising anything, but…" John patted his knee.

"It's good to share kinks," Brad said philosophically as he padded over. He slid into John's lap feeling small and sexy.

John kissed him, warm and open-mouthed. Brad's toes curled harder.

"You've never fucked a man before?" Brad asked.

"No."

"So, all the porn written about sex in the military is based on black black lies?"

"Well, I can't speak for the entire military," John said dryly. "It's a big organization."

"Thank you for not destroying fifty percent of my fantasy life. You watch my ass."

"It's a great ass." John tilted his head back to look Brad in the eye. "I don't know where we're going with this. I like you. I've been alone a long time. I wouldn't be opposed to getting to know you better, but my first priority is always going to be my boys and my job."

"Do you want to fuck me?"

John looked at him. "Do you like being fucked?"

"Yes. I like other things as well, but I really like being fucked. It's not just something I do to make straight boys like me," Brad said dryly. "In general, I don't care what straight boys think of me. I care what gay boys think of me because, hey, they're the ones I want to fuck me. Straight boys pretty much suck. Or don't, as the case may be."

"Hmmm…So, I should be flattered?"

"Probably."

"Well," John said, "what do you say we start slow?" He cupped Brad's face and drew him into another kiss. Brad gave him a wicked smile and popped the button on John's jeans, slowly lowering the zipper. He pushed John into the shabby armchair. Brad knelt at his feet, tracing the outline of John's cock through his underwear. John smiled down at him, amused, but wholly turned on.

"What do you say we just jump right in?" Brad said. He tugged John's underwear down. John inhaled. Brad's warm fingers were the best thing he'd felt in a very long time. He tugged Brad up for another warm open-mouthed kiss. Brad's mouth was both yielding and active and dominant and submissive. In other words, he was a hell of a good kisser. John was woefully out of practice himself, but Brad didn't seem to mind. Brad ran his fingers from the root of John's cock to the tip. Then he gave another one of those wicked smiles, sank back down to his knees, and licked John's cock from root to tip along the exact same path.

"Jesus fuck," John said.

Brad delicately ran his tongue around the head of John's cock, slowly and teasingly, while his hands continued their path. John groaned. It had been too long. Brad slowly sucked the head of John's cock into his mouth, humming softly. John shuddered at the vibration. Gripping John's cock firmly, Brad slid it out of his mouth with one last lick. "Do you want to fuck me, baby?"

John looked at him: Brad was softly flushed, his mouth damp, his eyes glittering. "I'd love to fuck you, darlin'."

"Pass me that bag."

John obediently reached over and swiped the bag off the nightstand, tossing it to him. Brad dumped the contents on the bed. Condoms, lube...and gum.

"I hope you're not planning to do something kinky with the gum," John said dryly.

Brad smirked. "I'll show you what that's for in the morning. Assuming things go well tonight, of course."

"Of course." John threw himself on the bed, narrowly avoiding the lube, and rolled on top of Brad. The hell with it. He kissed Brad hard, enjoying the way Brad relaxed into it. John tugged the bottom of Brad's shirt up and off and did the same with his own. Hmmm…bare warm skin. More would be good. He undid Brad's jeans and slid it down with his underwear, then, just as quickly, got rid of his own. Yes, naked was very good. Brad made a hot sound of pleasure when John landed back down on top of him.

They kissed again and again, bodies twining together. John ran his hands over Brad's pert ass. "Umm…" Brad broke away and reached for the lube. He propped up the pillows and, reclining into them, spread his legs. Brad coated his fingers and slid two in. "You wanna help?"

Oh, yeah.

Brad shivered. John frowned. There was definitely a draft in the room. "Are you cold?"

"Okay, not what I want to hear when you're looking at my cock."

John rolled his eyes. "Are you cold?"

"A little."

John tugged Brad forward, away from the pillows, and slid behind him, embracing him warmly. He kissed the delicate point of his shoulder.

"Oh, that's nice. I love a man with space-heating properties." Brad paused. "Okay, that didn't have quite the right ring to it, either. I love a man who's hot!"

"There you go. Now, let me make myself even more useful." John's much thicker fingers joined Brad's.

"Right there. Oh, baby, right there." Brad wiggled, and whimpered, and was altogether delightfully responsive.

Finally, Brad turned around in John's lap to face him. "Okay, fuck me. Fuck me now."

John said breathlessly, "But what if I'm not emotionally ready to take that…"

Brad pinched him, hard. "Evolve faster!"

Laughing, John reached for a condom. Brad tugged John on top of him, and John slowly sheathed himself inside of Brad. They both moaned at the tight fit.

"Okay?" John asked.

"Oh, yeah!"

John pushed in and out. In sync with his thrusts, John began to run his hand up and down Brad's small hard cock. It took some serious co-ordination, but Brad seemed to appreciate it. He pulled John's mouth down to his and his moans definitely hit a higher note. Good thing because it had been a long time for John and he didn't think his stamina was going to win any contest tonight. With a sharp gasp, Brad squeezed John hard around the neck and came. The tight clenching of his muscles around John's cock felt incredible. John thrust once, twice, and joined him.

 

+++

 

Curled up together in a cheap motel, Brad felt very very expensive. Somehow, he knew that he was the glitteriest thing in John Winchester's life. Now, if he could just keep John from poking about in things that were none of his business.

"So, how exactly do you pay your bills?" John asked curiously.

"I won the lottery."

"No, you didn't."

"I didn't?"

"You have a steady income, not a lump sum."

"Maybe I live off the interest."

"Nope, the money's structured wrong."

"Seriously? How can money be structured wrong? And how do you know any way? You looked? Oh my God, you are such a sneak!"

"I'm not a sneak. I'm careful. I spent a few minutes researching after you called. I wanted to know a little about the person I was potentially walking into a trap for. I hadn't even met you then."

"Well, from now on, just ask me!"

"Okay, Brad, what's your means of support?"

"My grandmother left me an annuity."

John looked at him with his head tilted a little. "Okay," he said.

"So fair's fair. I get a question now."

John nodded, wondering how he was going to explain the credit card thing. He should have known better.

"Last relationship?" Brad asked.

"I've been alone a long time. I've hooked up once or twice, but nothing serious."

"So, except for your sons, you've been alone since your wife died?"

"I've had a partner a time or two. It never ended well," John said.

"Work partner or partner partner?"

"Work partner."

"Well, there you go," Brad said. "I'm only peripherally interested in fighting evil. Well, that's not true. I fight evil full-time already. I'm only peripherally interested in fighting supernatural evil. Unless it's another homophobic ghost, which very effectively combines the two. Basically, I'm interested in you, not your job. Although I do feel it's important to show an interest," he added in his best fifties housewife tone.

John smiled involuntarily.

 

+++

 

The next morning, Brad declared the night before a success, and he shared the secret of the gum. To deal with morning breath, prior to slow sex, when neither one of them wanted to get out of bed. However, the eventual arrival of the package from Bobby meant they had to face the day.  
John could finally call Cook's number. This was the part that most worried him. If the demons didn't still have Cook's cell, he had no way of getting in touch with them. At least he told himself that was the part that worried him the most. Dean was alive. He had to keep telling himself that.

"Hello."

John closed his eyes in relief. "I have the artifact. Do you want to deal?"

"Yeah, it's about damn time."

"I want Dean, Cook, and Archuleta. You get the artifact."

There was a weird pause on the other end of the line. John had the feeling that he'd surprised the demon in some way. He didn't recognise the voice. If he was familiar enough with the demon sometimes he could detect the personality even with a new host.

"Yeah, sure," she said at last.

"Let me speak to Dean."

After a brief pause, Dean came on. "Dad, Cook isn't…" He made a sound of pain, and the demon came back on. "Ten minutes." She rattled off an address and hung up.

"What?" Brad asked.

"Dean said 'Cook isn't' before he was pulled off the line. What isn't Cook?"

Brad looked sick. "Alive?"

"Maybe, but 'Cook's dead' is shorter, so I don't think so. Whatever it is, it has to be important."

 

+++

 

"You're clear on what you're doing?" John asked.

"Your signal, or ninety seconds, whichever comes first."

"You're sure you can hit the windows?"

Brad nodded. "I'm sure."

"Okay." John looked at Brad's nervous, but resolute face. He leaned in and kissed him.

John was intensively present and dominating in his kiss. He gripped Brad firmly. Even on the verge of doing something terrifying, it made Brad really hot. He thought it bode well for their relationship.

 

+++

 

The first thing the demons did was search John for the colt. He couldn't believe they thought he'd be dumb enough to bring it. Brad had it, along with careful instructions on how and when to use it.

Dean was beat up looking, but alive. The demon in Archuleta's body looked like hell. He was soaked with what John figured was probably holy water.

"Where's Cook?" John asked. Cook's not here? Was that what Dean had been trying to say?

"That's what we'd like to know, John. Perhaps you can be more helpful than our friend here." John identified the voice from the phone. She was obviously in charge.

"Somehow I doubt it," the demon wearing Archuleta said dryly.

The second thing the demons did was check over the artifact. The time was now. John pressed his wrist against his body setting off the signal to Brad. It also set off the small steam element in the ugly artifact. At the same moment, the windows shattered and the Bobby-designed steam bombs came rocketing in.

"Really, John," the demon wearing Archeleta said. "What did you think that was going to do…?"

He broke off as the holy water steam hit the other demons and they began to scream.

Dean kicked out with his tied legs, taking down one demon that hit the ground and whimpered. John began the fastest series of exorcisms of his life. One, black smoke, two, black smoke, three, black smoke. The fourth and fifth didn't wait, but exited the bodies voluntarily. John figured holy water steam must hurt like hell. He approached the tied up demon wearing Archeluta.

"You really don't want to do that," the demon said.

"Why not?" Dean asked.

"Because I'm the only one who knows where Cook is. Let me go and I'll tell you. Exorcism me and he's dead."

"You think we are just going to trust you to let him go?" John asked  
.   
"Well…no, probably not. Get me out of this very unpleasant room, and we'll discuss the matter."

"I don't think so. If you wanted him dead, he'd be dead by now. For some reason, you very much don't. Tell us where he is and he won't die."

The demon smiled at him. "Very good, John. He's still at the hotel. You might want to look in the closet." At the same moment, he snapped the ropes holding him.

+++

"Jesus Christ," Brad said as he saw David Archuleta exit the hotel.

He scrambled out the door. The demon was just a blur in the distance by the time he reached the room.

+++

Brad turned and looked at John and Dean. "Cook's been found. He's alive." The Winchesters were nursing their bruises, both literal and figurative, after allowing the demon to escape with Archuleta.

"So, how do we get in to see him? The hospital is swarming with cops. Firearms and Tobacco do you think? That should be obscure enough," Dean said.

"Just tell him that John and Dean Winchester want to see him," Brad said dryly. "I'm pretty sure as Archie is still missing, he'll want to see you."

John and Dean looked at Brad, speechless.

"I guess we could try it," Dean said.

It took a while for them to convince the nurse at the desk to convey their message. After a long pause, the nurse came back with three other people. They looked like management to Brad.

"I don't know who you people are, but he wants to see you. His family is flying down, but, until they arrive, we are vetting his visitors. Don't upset him."

They all nodded solemnly.

Cook looked terrible. He was on an IV line.

Cook noticed Brad's worried glance. "It's just some fluids; I was in that closet for a while."

John moved closer to the bed. "Mr. Cook, I'm John Winchester. This is my son, Dean, and this is Brad Bell."

Cook waved away the formalities. "Can you help Archie? The demon mentioned you, but I don't know how much was true."

"We hope so Mr. Cook. It would really help if you could tell us what happened and how you got away."

Cook recapped the main events for them and concluded by saying, "He hid me in the closet. The chambermaid got quite a shock when she opened the door and found the _American Idol_ in it. It was…strange. She was the third person to open the door, but the only one to see me. Did you have something to do with that?"

"It was a spell, Mr. Cook," John said. "When the demon broke the spell, you were visible again."

"But why did he hide me?"

"Do you think Archie…?" Brad asked.

"No," Cook said, interrupting. "I don't think Archie could have influenced him that much. I think I have something he needs and I don't think he wants the other demons to have it. He spent a little too much time telling me he was just keeping me around for kicks. I think he didn't want me to do too much thinking about it."

"Okay, did he ask any questions about your family history, any travelling you did?"

Cook shook his head.

"Fuck, is there a particular note only you can hit?" Dean asked, really reaching.

"No, my range is adequate, but hardly unusual. It's widely acknowledged that I won _American Idol_ purely through charm," Cook said dryly. "I'm a wiz at crossword puzzles, if you think that's useful at all," he added, even more dryly.

Dean took a deep breath. "Right, where were you born?"

"Houston, but I was raised in Blue Springs, Missouri."

"Okay, let's start there. Do you remember anything weird from your childhood?"

"Weird?" Cook asked doubtfully.

"Strange, odd, scary, frightening?"

"Apparently, I had hysterics during a childhood trip to the Spring of the Summer Sky when I was ten."

"Seriously?"

"According to the family stories. To be honest, I still don't like water when I can't see the bottom. The spring is really deep."

"Were you singing?" Dean asked.

"What? Why would I have been singing? I'm not Archie."

"Dude, you were ten. Why wouldn't you have been singing? I sang all the time when I was ten," Dean said.

They all stared at him.

"What? I didn't say I was any good at it."

"If I was singing, I don't remember. I don't even remember the hysterics."

"Is there anyone who would? Anyone with you?" Dean said.

"God, who would have been my best friend back then? Oh, Jimmy. Jimmy Steple. I have no idea if he came on the trip or not. He never teased me about it, but he was a good guy. If I was really upset, he wouldn't have."

"Is there a legend? There's always a legend. Which tribe hung out there? There's always a tragic story of a princess, and her lover, and their tragic deaths," Dean said.

"I'm sure there is, but all I remember is how deep the water was."

"I need to do some research. It's a place to start, anyway."

They agreed to meet back at Cook's room in a few hours.

+++

It didn't take as long this time to get the nurse to carry the message. Obviously, they had been added to some kind of list. However, instead of management, a man who was clearly family came out to vet them.

He nodded politely at their introductions and said, "I'm Dave's brother Andrew. I don't know who the fuck you people are, but Dave wants to see you. And I don't care what he says: no one is seeing him alone, particularly not three someones. Dave obviously went through hell. I'm not sure I'm buying the demon story and I'm not convinced that lying to the cops was a good idea. However, I know Dave was crazy about that kid, so I'm not going to be able to change his mind. But if you want to see him, you do it with me."

He was clearly not backing down, so they agreed.

They finally got to talk to Cook. He was looking considerably better, but was obviously worried sick about Archie.

Dean recounted what little he had found out about the spring. "It is deep. Mapped to a depth of three hundred feet. Standard native legend. Girl doesn't want to get married. Warrior wins her hand from her father. She runs off, is caught, and trapped in a cave. She prays to see the sky, and, abracadabra, an unusually blue spring appears. Hmmm…I'm not seeing any records of haunting. Any luck at the university, Brad?"

"Yeah, I talked to a local guy. He was telling me that a book just came out by a member of the actual tribe and, apparently, it debunked a bunch of the local legends. Our Spring of the Summer Sky was one of them. What the legend never says is that there was a reason why she ran away, besides just wanting her freedom. She already had a lover."

"Not the winning warrior?"

"Not a warrior at all according to the book."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, apparently the story was edited heavily. Two women were discovered, killed, and buried in the cave, or so the most recent story goes."

"So, how is that connected with Cook?"

"Well, the thing is, no one ever saw a spirit at the springs before. Until this book came out debunking the westernized versions of the stories, there was no real reason for any kind of haunting. Cook, have you ever seen anything since then?"

Cook looked at him. He rubbed his nose thoughtfully. "He said I was too open to the universe." He paused. "Yeah, sometimes I see things."

They all looked at Cook wordlessly.

"How sensitive are you exactly?" Dean asked.

"I don't have anything to compare it to, now, do I?"

"Just a second." Dean got out his cell. "Yeah, Missouri, it's Dean. I'm good. Yeah, Sam is back at Bobby's. Listen, just a general question. How often would you have to see ghosts before you'd be considered a sensitive sensitive. No, I'm not kidding.

"Uh huh."

"Uh huh."

"Okay."

"Just a sec."

"Dave, how often do you see something?"

"Most days."

"Most days. Uh huh. Yeah, seems okay. Uh huh. Okay, thanks, Missouri. I appreciate it." Dean hung up his phone and looked at Cook. "You're fuckin' sensitive."

"Okay, so Dave's a freak in a totally different way than we thought he was," Andrew said. Cook made a "Gee, thanks" face at him. "How exactly would the demon know and why exactly would it care?"

"How well does Archie know you? Does he know that you see things?"

"No, it's better if I totally ignore it. You start talking about the invisible people you see and your best case scenario is rumours of drug use," Cook said.

"Okay, how did he know?" Dean asked.

"I think the demon could see it, I really do. He seemed surprised and interested as soon as he saw me."

"Huh. Good thing I have her on speed dial," Dean muttered. "Yeah, it's me again. What would a demon want with a sensitive and can they tell if you are one?" His reaction to Missouri's answer was instantaneous. "Jesus!" He held the phone away from his ear. "Okay, I won't swear, but quit yelling, will you?"

Dean was on the phone a long time. When he finally got off, he said, "It isn't good. Apparently, there are a lot of rituals that use psychics. They act as a catalyst. Any spell you do, the presence of a sensitive intensifies it." Dean took a deep breath and looked a little sick. "Particularly, if you sacrifice one as part of the spell."

"So, Dave's demon has the lamp thing, but not Dave," Andrew said. "Does that mean he'll be coming after him again?"

"I think it depends on whether a psychic was necessary to the spell. The demon might just give up on adding one to the mix, and Cook might be perfectly safe, or we might be able to keep the demon from finishing the spell just by keeping Cook away from him," John said. "A lot of spells are time-sensitive. He might not have time to find someone else. Either way, either Dean or I should stay with Cook."

Cook looked like shit. "He still has Archie."

"Son," John said, "I'm really sorry, but your friend is probably dead. A demon can go on animating a body for a long time."

"He's still alive. The demon would carry on conversations with him sometimes. Believe me. I recognize the other side of a conversation with Archie. You can't fake that, and why would the demon want to?"

"I searched the rooms at the _American Idol_ Mansion," Dean said. "Someone had set up salt barriers to all of them. Really cleverly too. The barriers were still there even after all this time. What used to be Cook's room was, umm…maybe a little over-salted? As if someone either had more access to it or was really concerned about…"

"Archie," everyone but Cook said immediately.

Cook looked around, confused. "Well, he would have had more access to my room, I guess, than he would to some people. I mean, we were in and out of each other's rooms all the time, but…"

"Nothing to do with access, man. Kid's nuts about you," Andrew said.

"Or it could be someone from the current crop of Idols. I mean, new people are staying at the Mansion now, right?" Cook said.

"I can state categorically that it isn't Adam," Brad said. "Maybe Kris. I mean, with those religious…" He petered off in the face of Cook's raised eyebrow.

"I think it was probably Archie," John said. "He's clearly involved in some way."

"The demon said Archie'd been possessed before. I mean, does that happen? Does one person get possessed multiple times? The poor fucking kid," Cook said wretchedly.

"By the same demon? Perhaps. But I don't think it's that usual for a series of different demons to do so." John looked at Dean. "You're sure you got rid of the first demon?"

Dean stiffened. "Yes, Dad, I'm sure."

"Then it can't be the same demon. They don't come back that fast. It takes years, if not decades. It had to be a different demon."

"But why Archie?" Cook asked insistently.

John looked at him. "I have no idea."

Dean looked at John. "Bobby?" he asked.

John shrugged. "Worth a try."

+++

"This is Brad," John said.

Bobby nodded shortly.

"Nice to meet you," Brad said. "I've heard so much about you. It's all Bobby this and Bobby that."

John took a deep breath. "He's my partner now."

Bobby looked at him. "Seriously? You're working together?"

"Sometimes, but that's not what I meant."

Bobby's face never moved. "Well, now, that calls for a drink."

Brad continued as if he'd never been interrupted. "I was starting to get jealous."

Bobby just looked at him.

"I know how to cook?" Brad offered tentatively.

"Just as well," Bobby said dryly.  


+++

"So, you have someone who has been possessed multiple times by different demons and a demon who wants a psychic?" Bobby asked.

"Mean anything to you?" John asked.

"Not offhand, but I'll give it some thought and make some calls."

"We'd appreciate it, Bobby," John said.

+++

"So, I called Ingules," Bobby said.

"I thought you hated Ingules," John said.

"I do, but I ran out of people to call that I actually like. I also ran out of people to call that I dislike. I'm down to people that I hate. Next up, people that I despise. After that, it's people that I hate and I don't think will be helpful, but, hey, I haven't actually called them yet."

John just looked at him. "So, what did Ingules have to say?"

"He said that sensitives were good for all purpose spellwork for demons. He also said that the only reason that he knew of, for a variety of demons to possess the same host, is if they were trying to hollow him out for some reason."

John said slowly, "Hollow him out?"

"Yeah, in case of some particularly powerful demon. The more someone is possessed, the weaker the bonds to the body. It's better if it's someone basically pure of spirit. Leaves less traces in the body, plus the whole desecration thing."

"So, they are planning to bring someone up. Someone big."

"Seems like."

"Well, shit."

John called Dean at the hospital and put him on speaker phone, but suggested that they keep Cook out of the loop. "Somehow, I don't think hearing that Archie is being hollowed out for a massive possession is going to help him recover."

They all agreed.

"So, how are we going to find the demon?" asked Dean.

"I'm pretty sure he's going to find us, or, more to the point, Cook. Bobby pulled up the dates for bringing up a demon out of hell. One of the best ones is tomorrow night."

"Does it happen to mention where?" Dean asked.

"No smartass," Bobby said. "But we're pretty sure we know why it wants Cook."

"Why?" Brad asked, carefully.

"Besides needing the extra power that a psychic provides, they need someone connected to the vessel to sacrifice. Cook is a twofer."

+++

They finally agreed that there was no way out of it. Cook would have to be told. They were right. He didn't take the news well.

"Jesus Christ. How many times do you think?" Cook asked.

John shook his head. "No way of knowing. The demons likely remained pretty inactive. I mean there would be no point in drawing attention to Archie by having him act out of character."

"Still Archie must have known something was going on," Cook said.

"We think that's why he salted everyone's room. Likely he did the same thing to any place he lived," John said. "Mr. Cook we have a plan if you're willing to help us. It's risky and we can't promise your safety. We are counting on the fact that the demons need both you and Archie alive to use in the ritual. We have no idea what the demon that kidnapped you was after. He might have wanted to set up his own version of the ritual. Clearly some kind of power struggle is going on between two factions. That unpredictability makes everything that much more dangerous. However, you are our only tie back to Archie.

"So, you want me to be bait?"

John nodded.

"Whatever I can do," said Cook.

+++

"I don't think I'm going to get any sleep tonight. How do you deal with the stress? I mean, usually I have fun and games, or I go out with my friends, but you aren't really set up for it here," Brad said.

"Yeah, and don't you and John go starting any fun and games. Some traumas can never be undone, and I think that would be one of them," Bobby said.

"Well, then, you'd better tell me your secret."

"I'll do better than that. I'll give you some, if you promise me no sex."  
"Deal," Brad said.

+++

"Are you high?" John asked incredulously.

"Yes, sir, I am. Very very high. It feels wonderful! Bobby has some good shit. Kind of him to share."

"Bobby smokes up? Oh, lovely!"

"He says that dealing with the Winchesters drove him to it. And, you know, I totally believe it."

+++

The morning dawned way too damned early and John was not helping.

"You're not coming," John said.

"Oh, that phrase should lead to something so much more fun! And I am so going with you!"

John gripped Brad by his arms. "YOU are not coming. This is not open for debate."

"Yeah, that dog won't hunt. Sweetie, I'm not one of your kids. I think it's adorable (and a little disturbing) that they are so obedient, but you are NOT the boss of me."

John glared at Brad. "If you want to work with me on cases, you are going to do what I say."

"Sweetheart, in bed I'm kinky enough to consider that fun, but I'm not your junior executive, I'm your boyfriend and, outside of role-playing, I don't take orders."

"Fine," John bit off.

"Wonderful," Brad returned. "Angry sex now?"

The angry sex was fabulous. Waking up (alone) handcuffed to the bed was less so.

Particularly, when Bobby finally ventured into the bedroom and said it was no more than he deserved.

"I told you not to go having sex in my house."

+++

"You ready?" John asked Dean.

"I think so."

"How's the tat?"

"Sore. How about you?"

"Yup." They looked at each other seriously. This was one of the most dangerous situations they had ever gotten themselves into.

Dean said suddenly, "Bobby will take care of Sammy."

"Of course he will," John said.

+++

Dean had grabbed some sleep over the course of the long boring day while his father watched the hospital. It had been hard to relax, even though he knew the demons were much more likely to make their attempt at night. He wasn't looking forward to fighting demons, but mostly he feared they were wrong about Cook being the target. If the demons had found another psychic, they were screwed.

But at 10:36 something stirred. He texted his father and waited. Ten minutes later, his father texted him back. _"They took Cook through the back entrance."_ Dean hoped they hadn't killed anyone. He waited, shifting nervously until his father texted him the address. Two people on the same tail was too high risk.

The address wasn't to some deserted warehouse district, but a hugely expensive loft area. Apparently, the upcoming demon rated high.

Dean met his father at the door to the condo, carrying the modified steam cleaner. "You sure this sucker is going to work?" Nothing like going into the endgame feeling like the janitorial staff.

"You'd better hope so," his father said dryly.

Dean nodded. His father had already jimmied the lock. They went up staircase after staircase as quickly and as silently as possible, the EMF making a progressively stronger whine as they climbed.

"Roof?" Dean muttered.

"Must be."

Sure enough, they hit the ladder to the roof. Dean turned off the EMF.

"Ready?" his father asked.

"Let's go," Dean said. Then he followed just behind as they made their way in.

The hatch was already open. They approached it carefully. They could hear soft chanting. As silently as possible, they set up their machine. Dean had the nozzle. John checked his machine gun. Dean shook his head. He hoped it wouldn't come to that. Demons could animate a dead body, but most would prefer not to remain in a mangled one. More importantly, this ritual could not be performed without a living host. If they couldn't break up the ritual, it would turn into a mass slaughter, with innocent hosts paying the price.

A quick glance revealed at least fifteen demons chanting in their circle. Both Archie and Cook were tied in the centre. The chanting was reaching a climax.

"Now," John mouthed. They jumped through the hatch and Dean opened fire. Steam poured into the room. Demons screamed and twelve of them fled their hosts immediately. Dean felt the reassuring ache in his freshly tattooed chest.

Three possessed humans remained, however, and John pointed the machine gun. "Go or the hosts will die," John said flatly. They sneered and moved forward, despite Dean blasting them with steam. Dean flinched as John opened fire.

Finally, the carnage was over. A few of the hosts were beginning to stir. Cook and Archie remained unhurt, which was something of a miracle considering how many bullets had been flying around. Something Dean was desperately grateful for. However, when Dean approached, even in the dim light, he could see Archie's eyes were still as black as pavement.

John pointed his gun at the demon. "Get out or you're next."

The demon laughed. "I think you're confusing who cares about the host here. Archie's my hostage, not your's.

"I don't think so," John said softly. "We know he has to be alive. What do you think the demon you're waiting on is going to do if you destroy his perfect host? He's running out of time, isn't he? Only one more date that'll work before this host is too old. I'm betting he'll want to try again."

The demon looked at John with malevolent hate, but black smoke poured out of Archie.

+++

Brad glared, brown eyes brilliant with fury. "I have to pee, you fucker."

"Sorry, babe." John cupped Brad's face, tilted his head, and took a kiss from his angry mouth, at the same time releasing the handcuff. Brad's arms came around his neck, and John's mouth opened in response.

"Doesn't mean I'm not angry," Brad said firmly on the way to the bathroom.

+++

John went out into the yard after his shower, following the sound of gunfire.  
Brad was shooting tin cans off the top of old wrecks.

"You're good at that."

"My daddy taught me to shoot."

"Okay, even drunk, high, exhausted and fucked, you've never used that twang before."

"Well, you are now part of a very select group. Adam used to…Huh. I thought I'd broken myself of that habit. You kinda have to when your ex becomes really really famous. A shame because so much of my life was with him. Or, at least, the more interesting bits. I guess that's not true anymore. Reason enough to join the fight against evil!"

"And he used to say?" John asked.

"Oh, just that only really specific things brought out the accent. Just stress isn't enough to do it. Certainly getting high wouldn't."

"Brad, where exactly do you see this going? I get the feeling the thing with Adam was pretty serious."

"It was and…It was pretty painful when it didn't work out in the end. I can't see us getting back together. I mean, he has a pretty exciting life, but I'm not interested in living in the corners of it. I need my own thing."

Brad turned and looked at John. "I'm not interested in living in the corners of your life, either."

"Sammy will be back tomorrow. I want you to meet him."

"Oh, that's…umm…serious."

"They're good boys, but it'll be a shock."

"I don't expect you've ever brought a man home to meet them before."  
"I've never brought a woman either."

+++

Dean and Bobby sat drinking coffee, contemplating John Winchester's love life and both of them really wishing they were drinking something alcoholic.

"I like Brad," Bobby finally said.

"What? He has spunk?" Dean asked sardonically. He closed his eyes. "Allow me to rephrase that."

"More like a sense of self-preservation, although I guess I have grounds to doubt that, seeing as he's hanging out with the likes of the Winchesters."

+++

Brad thought Sammy was fucking adorable. He was tall, skinny, and gawky, with a chip on his shoulder and so many brains they practically leaked out his ears.

He fully expected Sammy to hate him; however, Sammy seemed more stunned than anything when John introduced him. Perhaps the hatred would come later. He had no idea. He had never been a step-mother before.

"You and Dad…Dad's…I don't understand…"

+++

"So, my Dad, huh?" Dean asked.

"I have a thing for marines. It's a weakness," Brad said.

"But you're going back to L.A.?"

"For now. We'll try the long distance thing. See how it goes. I'm not making wedding plans, but we're going to give it a shot." Brad looked at Dean, assessing him. "So, Sammy's heading off to college. What's your long-term plan?"

"What?" Dean looked like he'd been hit in the stomach.

"You know, when you start getting up there. Despite your dad's fabulous form, it's pretty much a young man's game, right? I mean, the average athlete retires when they're in what? Their thirties? Once the reflexes start to go. So, ten years from now, you'll need a plan. You do the long distance education thing now, you could have something to fall back on. Bobby has that degree in philosophy, although personally I'd go for something a little less esoteric and a little more practical."

"Bobby has a degree? In PHILOSOPHY? Wait, Sammy is going where?"

+++

"I want to see Archie," Cook said firmly, but without hostility. Considering they were both in the same hospital, it was ridiculous how much trouble he was having. He was a little tired of being watched as if he were in danger of falling apart any minute. He wasn't stellar; he didn't expect to be for some time. There might be some therapy in his future, but, right now, he was worried about Archie. Archie didn't handle guilt well. The fact that Archie had been just as much a victim of the rapes was not going to help much. He wondered if one of the Winchesters could direct him to a therapist that handled supernatural trauma.

Persistence eventually paid off and a very nice nurse led him to Archie's room. Archie flinched hard when David came through the door. Archie looked bad, although David had been assured multiple times that he had been admitted mainly for shock.

"How you doing, buddy?"

Archie couldn't even meet his eyes. David sat on the side of his bed. He really wished Archie would look at him. David expected that he'd be making uncomfortably firm eye contact with people for years to come.

"Archie, listen. This wasn't your fault."

"I should have done something about it sooner. I shouldn't have let it hurt people. I just didn't know what it was. Or I just didn't want to know. I mean, I did the salt thing, but I didn't really believe in it. It made me do things before, but it didn't hurt anybody else. I just thought I was…I went to the bishop and he said it was normal to have urges. I…"

"You did what you could. You were a victim too. I'm really really sorry about that." Finally David reached out and put his hand on Archie's.

Archie looked at him and it was all Cook could do to meet his eyes himself.

"Does the tattoo hurt?" Cook asked.

"It's a little sore. I'll have to hide it when I go back home. How about you?"

"Well, I won't have to hide it." Cook smiled at him. "It'll help my rocker cred."

+++

Dean was a little hesitant to visit Archie in the hospital. He wasn't sure if seeing him would help or hurt Archie. He finally decided he owed it to the kid in case he needed to release some anger in his general direction.

"So, you remember me," Dean said. The kid had been in pretty rough shape when he'd brought him into the hospital.

"Well, yeah! You only saved my life!"

"So, do you want to talk about it? Sometimes, it's easier with someone you don't know."

"I hurt Cook."

Dean nodded. "He seems like a really good guy."

"Cook's the best."

"So, before all this went down, were you and Cook…?" Dean made an explicit gesture that made Archie pull a face that was almost as funny as Sammy's bitch face.

"No," Archie said, less embarrassed than Dean would have thought. "Why would you think that?"

Dean thought of the way Cook had looked at the kid.

"I just wondered. Demons have a way of figuring out your weaknesses and using them against you."

Archie looked at him. "If you start having feelings, you talk to your parents or your bishop. If you did something you shouldn't have, you can repent."

"But you couldn't, like, date someone?"

"Well, it kinda depends on the church. It's considered a sin in my church."

"Huh. I bet a lot of things I do would be considered sinful."

"Well, I hope not," Archie said and Dean found himself believing the kid's sincerity. "My church is pretty strict, but, you know, I'm used to it."

+++

"Wait, wait, go back," Dean said.

Sammy obediently flipped the channel back to some kind of interview.  
It looked like a douchy looking reporter had Archuleta cornered at some kind of charity event.

"What do you think about Adam Lambert coming out in _Rolling Stones_? What do you think about the revelation that he's gay?" The reporter paused expectantly.

Archie blinked at him looking a little confused. "I don't think it was a big surprise. I don't think he was trying to be all sneaky and secret about it. I'm sure he was happy with who he was and stuff. It's not like he was ashamed. I just kind of assumed it. I think everyone else did too. I don't think it's a bad thing or anything."

"So, you're a David Archuleta fan now?" Sam asked dryly.

Dean just looked at him, totally unembarrassed. "Absolutely! Kid's awesome!"

+++

Dean hated meeting with Ruby. She had approached Sam when he was sixteen. Sam had been more than a little freaked out when he told Dean about it. "She's just incredibly creepy, you know?"

John had said never to trust her, but that she might provide some useful information. "I don't expect her to tell us the truth. Her slant on things will be twisted, but she might tell us about the existence of things we'd have no idea about otherwise."

They had made some clear guidelines about what she was allowed to do, and who she was allowed to possess, before they had agreed to even listen to her. Despite that, Dean always wanted a shower after their meetings.

"Despite all the yapping about discovering John's vulnerability, the demons are a little" – Ruby waved her hand back and forth – "nonplussed by the new addition."

"What? Demons are homophobic?" Dean asked. "Well, they _are_ evil."

"Funny. I don't imagine the angels are any happier. There's no mention of him in any of the texts. He's invisible and that's freaking them all out."

"So, Dad threw everyone a curb ball? Go, Dad! You think having an invisible player will make a difference?"

"Maybe. Or maybe he'll just be cannon fodder."

+++

John told himself he was just bored. Okay, and with Brad back in L.A., maybe a little bit lonely. He was in no way jealous of Brad's past relationships and certainly not of one in particular. He was just curious. He typed "Brad Bell". He scowled at the endless pages of nondescript MySpace listings. He flipped back to his Twitter. Cheeks! Thank God for cross-referencing. He blinked at the glittery images appearing. Hmmm…he looked younger in person. There were certainly some _interesting_ photographs of him.

Hmmm… Brad…Brad…Annuity, huh? Let's see…

"That little fuck. That little lying fuck."

He managed to reach him by phone right away. He had to admit it was nice to hear his voice, even if he had called to confront him about a lie.

Brad was totally unrepentant. "Well, what did you expect? Maybe I'll tell you on our anniversary."

"The golden one?"

"Hey, mystery adds sparkle to any relationship."

+++

A small colourful figure slid out of his father's big beast of a new truck. Dean still couldn't believe his father had given him the car. Brad's arrival with his father was unexpected; Dean felt a lifting of his spirits. Dean watched his dad take a swig of his coffee as Brad gestured widely and spoke animatedly.

"His dick was pulled too green, if you know what I mean, and I think you do." Dean watched with amusement as John choked on his coffee.

Dean's father had a pretty smart-mouthed boyfriend who was the size of a minute, quick-witted, damn good with a con and looked at them both with big adoring eyes. The shock of his dad having anyone was actually harder to get used to than it being a guy. After a bad day, when Brad was visiting, Dean was just as likely as John to have Brad curled up beside him with his head on his shoulder. Brad wasn't shy. He was damned good company and, actually, Dean didn't really mind having him occasionally land in his lap. At least, Dean didn't have to worry about anything embarrassing happening with the physical contact.

His father looked happier, anyway. And Dean would cherish the look on Sammy's face at the first sight of Brad for years to come.

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Note:  
> **I wrote a small sequel to_ Inside Out, Upside Down, Backward_ for the   
> [blackdress_adam](http://community.livejournal.com/blackdress_adam/) Challenge  
> [AOOO version of _Demons Don't Sparkle_ is here.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/98006)


End file.
